Tomiño

The next 10.5 miles to the big city of Tui are along the river again. After Tui, I’ll be inland, so this is my last day along water. I walk all day with Max, a good humored fellow from Austria. We met at last nights Pilgrims’ dinner. Max’s Camino plan is to wander from cafe to cafe, drinking coffee, until he gets tired of walking. Then he finds a place to sleep.

The path we walk is a bit more pedestrian than yesterday. There’s often brush and trees between us and the river on the left. Farms and fields on the right again. We come across a couple of farmers on small tractors, and muddy tracks right along the eco path from a field to a small house. We also encounter construction, but the hardhat guys are cool with us going past on a dirt track alongside the unpaved path.

The day started at a cafe in the square, by the church, in the town. Every town I Portugal has a similar church/town square/cafes spot. It’s soothingly repetitive. Max bought us both pan de chocolate and espressos. Then we hit the path.

Max doesn’t use poles, and at first I think my pace might be too quick, but we soon settle into a rhythm. I always walk faster with someone, so we are doing 20- minute miles, even with photo stops. At first I’m uncomfortable with the long stretches of silence between us, nothing but our synched footsteps to hear. But I soon stop worrying and just enjoy the birds whistling. And the winds whistling. It’s windy by the river today.

Every once in a while we share story or a joke. Max is low-key and funny. I like him.
At one point I see a white butterfly. My friend Maria would say this is Kory’s soul come to visit. I get a little weepy (quietly so). Then I notice the butterfly isn’t leaving. It’s been following us a loooong time.

“Dude. I’m just talking to him.” I know the bug isn’t Kory, but still…

I do like Max. Not LIKE him, like him. But he’s the first guy I’ve hung out with in a while who makes me laugh out loud and is also comfortable in his own skin.

The butterfly gives up, but other little white fluttery fellow take its place. Somewhere around mile 6 I stop caring. Nothing squashes a grief metaphor as well as a kill-ometer. (Ba-dum-bump.)

Eventually, Max and I come across our first graffitied yellow Camino arrow, with “BAR OPEN” painted above it. We both think,this is funny, perhaps because it’s been a long time since we’ve seen anything but fields and bushes. We climb a hill and enter the little bar to find ‘Gangster’s Paradise’ blasting on the stereo. I think this is funny, but Max doesn’t seem to get it.

We eat. We drink. We pee. We hit the path.

We don’t see another cafe until Valenca. Cafe Max must stop. I’m ready. We’re both hungry. We have lunch and the cafe owner sell Max on a nearby albergue. This is his fourth Camino, so Max doesn’t get nervous about finding a bed. He’s nice enough not to judge my completely preplanned route.

We have a nice lunch and enjoy the gregarious host. My blister has returned, and while caring for my feet (Gross, but necessary for a pilgrim) I discover another one forming on the bottom of my other foot. Dang it! I’m still two hilly miles from my apartment in Tui. I have to make the walk-or-taxi call again. I choose the latter. This blister ain’t gong to get better if I keep walking on it.

The host calls a taxi for me. She arrives in two minutes. A quick hug, and I’ve left Max behind.

I call Brigit later that evening. She’s way ahead of me. I won’t catch her, so I won’t see her again. Meanwhile, I have a rest day in Tui, so Max will get ahead of me. I might never see him again. Or I might pass him drinking coffee at some cafe down the road. It’s kinda weird; this thing where you meet people and spend real, up-close time with them, and then they’re gone.

They call it “Camino family.” I have one now.Les mer